


A Mile In Your Shoes (Quite Literally)

by 8bitcyborg



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Body Swap AU, Hana and Lúcio are best friends and pranksters, Hanzo really likes pet names, Jack and Ana are terrifyingly perceptive, Jesse is a master of pet names, M/M, Masturbation, Meant To Be Funny But Also Serious, Mumbo Jumbo Prosthetic Science, Nothing Gets Past Grandma Ana, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Rating will go up, Sexually Frustrated Hanzo, Wet Dream, gency if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-09-26 00:53:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9854771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8bitcyborg/pseuds/8bitcyborg
Summary: «Caduceus technology, a blessing turned into a disaster as Mercy’s latest resurrection malfunctions and brings some undesired effects with it.The McHanzo Body Swap AU no one asked for, but I wrote it anyways.»





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was going to be a simple pwp with the following prompt and I quote my 'fic ideas document': 
> 
> "McHanzo bodyswap fic  
> Main point: Hanzo being shocked by how big McCree’s dick is when he has to shower."
> 
> But as per usual it got out of hand, and is now going to be a full multi-chapter fic instead. Enjoy! :v

It had to be a joke. It had to. Or maybe he was still unconscious and this was some fucked up dream. But for every step he takes down the hallways, spurs jingling as a cruel reminder, the reality of the situation becomes more and more clear. Mercy’s soft voice apologizing again and again is still echoing in his ears and he stops to slam a fist sideways into the wall, uttering a low _‘fuck!’_ under his breath. He really shouldn’t be doing that, this was not _his_ body after all.

~

He had woken up with a short gasp as air filled his lungs again, as one usually does when coming back from death, or some kind of pseudo death as it were these days. Praise technology, or more precisely, praise Mercy’s Caduceus Staff, the lifesaver they had come to depend upon on more than just one occasion. Hanzo understood the fantastic breakthrough the piece of tech had been to humanity, to Overwatch, but he still hated it. It kept people from being fully on the edge, senses sharpened. People were lulled into a false sense of security knowing Mercy could resurrect them if things were to go bad. What they should be the most fearful of however, was the very narrow window of time she had to be able to use it. You couldn’t be dead for many minutes before even she, the Guardian Angel herself, wouldn’t be able to save you.  
Head swimming he raised his hand to shield his eyes from the fluorescent lights of the medbay. The coolness had felt really nice for a few seconds before he had started to wonder exactly _why_ he was so cold. He was still experiencing a bit of vertigo when he paused to inspect his hands and found one tanned flesh hand and one metal prosthetic. There was someone calling out to him, but he couldn’t figure out the voice, until he realized it was his own voice, coming from someone else. He blinked a few times, accepting a cup of water being held to his lips, the vertigo losing its grip on his head. It should have been a dream. Staring up into his own face, and it wasn’t a mirror, should really have been a dream.

“Hanzo, how are you feeling?” himself said, no, the _person_ before him said.

He wanted to respond, but couldn’t quite get his mouth to work properly. The person before him, wearing his face, looked worried. His eyebrows drawn together and mouth frowning. _Did he really look like that when he was worried?_ The fake Hanzo walked over to what Hanzo recognized as Mercy’s work desk and picked up a communicator. _‘Angela? He’s awake. Yeah, he seems a bit disoriented. Please do.’_  
A few agonizing minutes passed where Hanzo kept staring at what was not his hands as he kept flexing them, slightly stunned at how the metal hand barely had a sense of touch. He was about to comment on it when Mercy and Winston practically barged in through the door.

“Hanzo!” Mercy exclaimed, pulling a stethoscope from her coat and motioning for him to pull his t-shirt up as she got to work.

“Heart rate is normal.” she said calmly. “How are you feeling? Dizziness? Nausea? Any pain? Do you know where you are?” 

“Medbay, Watchpoint: Gibraltar. Yes, I am a bit dizzy but otherwise...fine…” his voice died in his throat. It was foreign, deeper than his own. He knew this voice, but it sounded wrong coming from him. He wanted to keep denying this, yes total denial, but no that was not a possibility anymore.

“Well, the short version-” Mercy said. “-is that something malfunctioned when I resurrected you and Jesse.”

“You’ve sorta, uhm-” She looked downwards, the floor suddenly very interesting. She almost seemed ashamed. 

_No. No, no and no._

“-switched bodies.”

There it was. Their mission had gone to shit. Him and McCree had been caught in the line of fire and apparently fatally wounded. Mercy had gone to resurrect them, and of course her Caduceus had malfunctioned. Leaving them with the nightmare scenario of a body swap. How the science behind _that_ worked he could only speculate, but it was very, very real. He looked directly at himself, no that was McCree, in his body. The gunslinger was being eerily silent. His usual jolly and smooth personality all gone for the time being. He was wearing a pained expression and much like Mercy, also finding the floor very interesting. _‘No! A Shimada should not fixate his eyes submissively to the floor like that!’_ God, right now McCree irritated him more than anyone else in the room. Standing there, in _his_ body, looking defeated and pained.

“I don’t understand.” Winston said as he pushed his glasses further up on his broad nose. Hanzo’s attention snapped back to the simian.

“I thought this anomaly was ironed out a long time ago.” he continued, getting everyone’s attention.

“After what I read in the old reports anyways.” he added, looking a bit guilty. Winston reading highly classified reports from the older days of Overwatch was the least of their problems right now, if Hanzo was inclined to have an opinion. He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. (Mercy of course had a painkiller and a glass of water placed in his hands in seconds.)

“How fast can you fix this?” he implored after swallowing his pill and chugging the water messily, courtesy of taking the glass in his left hand and it slipping due to his poor coordination with the metal prosthetic.

Winston made a low humming sound, his brain already at work. _‘Please say immediately. 1 hour, 2 hours, even 3, please, I just can’t-’_

“I cannot say. I’ll make it my priority to dig up some more reports, on both the old Caduceus case and cases related to similar technology. Meanwhile, I advise you to take this in stride. Maybe you can learn something from it?”

Hanzo was seething on the inside. No, no, no, no! He did absolutely _not_ want to spend an extended amount of time in someone else’s body like this! Especially not McCree’s!

“I’ll be in my office. Please come by a bit later, Angela. We have much to discuss. Hanzo, Jesse.” the scientist finished with a nod before exiting the medbay.

“Hanzo… I am so, so sorry…” Mercy’s voice was soft, sad, he could barely hear her words. Her hand came up to rest on his shoulder, squeezing him in comfort. He tried to feel sorry for her, she hadn’t done this on purpose, she only wanted to help, but his inner, angry voice told him he was certainly justified in being angry.

“Fuck…” he hissed low, feeling Mercy retract her hand from his shoulder.

He leaped out of the bed and scooped up the sweatpants lying on the chair by his bed, pulling them on. McCree’s ridiculous cowboy boots was the only option for footwear and he grimaced as he pulled them on, spurs jingling as he did so.

“Hanzo-” McCree tried but the archer wasn’t having any of it. He could barely look at the other.

“I need some air.” he said stiffly, exiting the medbay and slamming the door behind him.

He hadn’t walked in any direction in particular, mind reeling with a million thoughts. What if this wasn’t fixable? What if they were stuck like this forever? He suddenly felt an overpowering need to read the reports Winston had mentioned. How many others had fallen victim to this? Were they able to fix the problem back then? He hadn’t been watching where he was going and almost knocked Tracer over as she rounded a corner.

“Oy, luv I was lookin’ for ya! I have some-” she started, an enthusiastic smile taking up most of her face.

“Not now, Tracer.” he replied curtly, shoving her away.

“Jesse?” she said softly, worry immediately creeping into her voice.

Ah of course. The others didn’t know about the swap. The only ones that knew about this was of course just him and McCree, and Mercy and Winston. He looked at her, seeing the hurt and confusion in her eyes. She and McCree were good friends. He would probably never do what Hanzo did just now.

“I’m sorry.” he mumbled. “I’m sorry, _Lena_. I’m having a very bad day. I just need some time alone. Sorry for pushing you like that. It won’t happen again.” he finished before stalking off again, leaving Tracer possibly even more confused and worried than before.

~

A defeated Mercy hides her face in her hands. It has been a rough week on so many levels, and now this. Jesse (bless his kind heart) pulls her into a hug and tells her it’ll be alright. She sniffles and lets out a somber laugh.

“This feels so weird, first Hanzo is angry with me, now _‘he’_ is hugging me. My head is spinning from this, I can’t even begin to imagine what this must be like for you.”

Jesse chuckles as he releases her from his hug. Yeah, this was so many levels of weird he didn’t even know where to start.

“It’ll be alright, Angela, jus’ give him some time. I have faith in Winston fixing this.” he winks at her and she giggles, before straightening herself with a polite cough.

“You have no idea how strange it is, seeing and hearing your mannerisms coming from his visage.”

Jesse just shrugs and gives her a goofy smile.

“Alright. Please do not hesitate to come back here should you experience anything out of place or any kind of weird symptoms, ok?”

Jesse gives her two thumbs up before he too exits the medbay, stalking off after Hanzo

~

All that lead up to Hanzo now standing outside his own sleeping quarters, having just punched that wall in frustration and immediately regretted it. It wouldn’t be wise to intentionally cause damage to someone else’s body. He’s about to lock himself in his room when McCree rounds the corner and shouts for him to hold up.  
He fixes the man with an unamused gaze, about to repeat himself of his earlier words of needing some air but McCree holds up a hand signaling for silence.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. There’s just a few things we need to sort out before I can leave you alone.” he says before clearing his throat. Seeing himself like this was still so surreal.

“Damn, I _am_ quite a bit taller than you…” McCree says, prompting a snort from Hanzo.

“Yeah, sorry, sorry, not the time. But it’s related actually. I am probably gonna fit into my own clothes like this, but you probably aren’t, so I’m just gonna pop into my room and… pick up some clothes you can use while we’re like this.” he finishes. Ah. That was something Hanzo hadn’t even considered in his haste to run away and stew. McCree is watching him with an unreadable expression on his face and something in Hanzo feels odd and out of place somehow. He’s used to seeing his own scowling and stern face in mirrors, he knows very well what he looks like. But the expressions McCree is pulling off is so _foreign_ to him.

“Fine. Please hurry.” he replies curtly, leaning his back against the wall. McCree snaps to attention and zips nimbly over to his own room, disappearing inside. _‘McCree’s clothes. I’m gonna have to wear McCree’s clothes.’_ He mentally slaps himself. _‘You’re already doing that, you idiot.’_ he continues to scold himself, fiddling with the hem of the dark grey sweatpants he’s currently wearing.  
He doesn’t get to mentally berate himself further as McCree emerges from his room with a bag in his hands. He hands it over to Hanzo and rubs the back of his head, looking a bit sheepish.

“I got ya underwear and socks, and some more sweatpants, t-shirts and a few hoodies. Figured you wouldn’t want to get into the full cowboy getup, so very casual was the best choice. Oh yeah and of course a pair of sneakers. Those boots ‘o mine can get a bit noisy sometimes.”

Hanzo suddenly feels oddly warm. The gesture is actually very considerate. He bites his tongue to prevent himself from saying anything embarrassing, he’s actually about to snap but McCree has done nothing wrong so far so he has to pull himself together. He swallows to clear his throat, hoping to keep his voice neutral.

“I, uhm, do you need anything from my closet?” he tries and immediately thinks it sounds so lame. McCree however perks up and actually _smiles_. With _Hanzo’s face_. 

“If it’s not too much trouble, yeah I’d like that, darlin’!”

“Do not call me _‘darling’_.”

“I’m sorry, dar- Hanzo, you know I call everyone that, but okay.”

Hanzo holds up a finger, signalling for McCree to wait for a moment as he enters his room. Yeah, so most of the clothing Hanzo owns are traditional Japanese clothing, along with his several kyudo-gis and hakamas. He sighs and digs to the back of his closet, where he has stashed some clothes he’s not sure he’d ever use. He actually owns a pair of sweatpants and a few t-shirts himself, for those extraordinary lazy days, McCree would surely appreciate those. Then from the back of the closet comes the jeans. Form-fitting, charcoal jeans, with a few rips here and there. Hanzo swears he doesn’t know what he was thinking when he bought those. _‘Liar, you know very well you thought they looked so cool.’_ He throws them, a pair of converse and a light sweater into the pile for good measure. A few pieces of underwear and some socks and he’s done. He shoves the clothing pile into a bag and leans halfway out of the door, handing McCree the bag. McCree accepts it with a smile and opens his mouth to say something but Hanzo interrupts him.

“You’re welcome. We can probably talk in the morning. Good night, McCree.” he says hastily before shutting his door and punching in the code for the lock. 

His back hits the wall with a heavy thud and he slides down into sitting position, burying his face in his hands, one flesh, one metal. _‘Fuck.’_  
Things had finally been looking up. Him and Genji had made peace with each other and he was slowly warming up to speaking to Genji’s mentor, Zenyatta. He was decently comfortable working with Overwatch and finally felt as if he was somewhat in control of his life again. The universe _never_ favored him of course and just had to throw this _catastrophe_ in his face. He’d done such a good job at hiding it. His secret. His shameful, lusty secret. He runs his flesh hand through his hair out of habit and immediately regrets it. How many times hadn’t he dreamed of doing that? Of running a hand through McCree’s wild hair. It’s surprisingly well taken care of he notices. He slides a hand over his cheeks and touches the scruffy beard the man is so well known for. It’s neat and was probably trimmed just before their horrendous mission. He glances cautiously towards the big mirror that covers one of the doors of his closet. _‘Fuck.’_  
He swallows as a sudden warmth creeps up his neck. Staring back at him is the image of a very casual McCree, sweatpants and t-shirt, hair tousled and cheeks dusted pink. He looks so casual, so soft, slightly turned on… No! No, he will NOT go there. This was bad, bad, bad, _bad!_ He jumps to his feet and stalks over to his bed, pulling out the drawer underneath it and grabbing a bedsheet that he promptly throws over the mirror door. Problem solved. For now. He looks around the room and realises with dread that his Storm Bow is nowhere to be seen. It was probably still in Mercy’s lab. Either that or someone brought it into storage. He’d have to remember to pick her up later for her maintenance. Denied of one of his favourite activities to occupy himself with he opts for going to bed. It was kinda late anyways. He strips out of his clothing and crawls underneath the covers, a myriad of feelings threatening to burst out of his chest any minute.

His dreams that night are filled with various images of a certain cowboy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Please consider leaving kudos/comments if you enjoyed my writing<3
> 
> You can find me at http://8-bitcyborg.tumblr.com/ as well!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A smidge of sexy, a dash of funny, but also some seriousness added into the mix. Enjoy! (I love Ana<3)

He wakes up still tired, and drenched in sweat the following morning. Or rather, it is barely morning as the sun hasn’t even started to rise yet and the birds are still quiet. He groans as he realises he isn’t going to be able to go back to sleep so he can just as well get up and do something useful. _‘Brew some tea, meditate, tend to the bonsai tree’_. He grimaces as his nose registers the smell of sweat from both himself and his bedsheets. He’d have to change those and take a shower as well. Nature calls and he ambles to his bathroom, only to stop in front of the toilet. Yeah, this was one part he couldn’t ignore however much he wanted to. He somehow manages to pee without looking so much and sighs as he flushes the toilet. The shower would most definitely be more problematic. _‘Good god Hanzo get a grip.’_ he scolds himself inwardly. _‘This is a shitty situation, especially because you are an idiot that is attracted to this man, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t in control of yourself! You are not this weak!’_  
He kicks off his boxers and turns on the shower, giving it a few moments to heat up before standing underneath the spray. He sighs at the delightful feeling of hot water cascading down his body, washing away the grime and sweat from yesterday’s mission and the following night, and letting his mind be at peace for a blessed little moment. It’s too bad one has to use soap to actually get clean. Shampoo and conditioner pose no problem, even if his hands linger a bit long in his hair. He stops as his metal arm grabs the bottle of soap. Shit, did McCree shower with or without his prosthetic arm? He flexes his fingers and looks at it from all angles. If it had electric components Hanzo would probably have noticed by now. It seems to be fine, the arm not showing any signs of malfunction. He reluctantly starts lathering himself in soap, anxiety prickling at the edges of his mind the closer he gets to his crotch. He’s done his whole body bar crotch area and he swallows heavily, unbidden images teasing him in his mind. The first touch has him almost groaning, the warm water and slippery soap doing _nothing_ to quench the arousal suddenly flaring within him. He lets out a shuddering breath, still not actually _looking_ at what he’s doing. He panics when he can feel himself starting to grow hard. Cheeks red with embarrassment he quickly finishes up and rinses, and throws himself out of the shower, grabbing his big fluffy towel and hiding within it.  
He opens the door to let out the steam while he dries his hair and quickly dabs at his body, doing his best not to let his mind wallow in the gutter. If only he was prepared for what he was about to see in the unmisted bathroom mirror. In hindsight he should have covered that one up as well.

McCree has one _glorious_ body.

He hasn’t even been close to seeing the man naked before. He knew he was well-built, but now actually seeing every muscle and contour of his body, his style of clothing surely does not do his body any of the justice he is so fond of. He’s got broad shoulders and strong arms, an even broader chest dusted with fine chest hair, hard abs and that one thing Hanzo really, _really_ likes; a prominent treasure trail, starting just underneath his navel and ending at his-  
His brain might just as well short-circuit now. He’s only half-hard, and he can already testify that McCree isn’t small by any stretch of the imagination. Utterly transfixed he grabs the jutting appendage with his flesh hand, swallowing heavily. This was _not_ a good idea. This was _wrong_ , this was so not acceptable. The logical and moral part of his brain fights a losing battle as he starts stroking himself slowly. He smears the bead of precum that leaks from the tip around with his thumb and whimpers at the sensation. He doesn’t need many strokes before he’s fully erect and he chances a look at himself in the mirror. His (McCree's) body is still wet with a few astray drops of water. His mocha hair hangs down around his face, a few feathery bangs brushing the tip of his nose. He bites his lower lip and grabs onto the sink with his metal arm, the other closed tightly around the biggest cock Hanzo has seen in his life. He looks a bit… wrecked. And that is exactly what he wants to be. Wrecked, by Jesse McCree. He wants his cock so bad. Stretching him out, filling him up. He groans as a fresh wave of arousal mingles with the warmth already pooling in his groin. He pumps his hand a bit faster, smearing more precum around the head. Fuck, it feels so wrong to be doing this, but _so good_. He moans loudly and his knees buckle underneath him as he comes messily into his hand.  
For few glorious seconds he feels calm and sated, but guilt and shame comes creeping forth soon enough and he doesn’t look at himself in the mirror as he rinses off his hand. He dries his hair some more and gets his comb, only to pause for a second. So much of his stuff is going to have imprints of McCree on them by the time Winston has found a cure. He shakes his head, finding himself a plain hair band and tying his hair up in a low ponytail to get it out of the way. He ignores as best as he can, the fact that the first pair of boxers he pulls out of McCree’s bag has a horseshoe pattern all over them. He’s lucky with the plain socks and the dark blue sweatpants, but again he has to snort over the t-shirts he finds. The one that’s the least grating on the eyes are a plain black one with the words _‘Yeehaw!’_ in red letters. He notices with distaste that he spent way more time in the shower than he was supposed to. Breakfast would be served soon and maybe if he was lucky, there would only be a few people present so early. Morrison would be there, grumbling down into a cup of impossibly black coffee. He was 99% sure Reinhardt would be on cooking duty as he was most mornings, and Ana Amari would probably be there as well, sipping her morning tea and offering Hanzo some as well. Except she probably wouldn’t today, since he didn’t exactly look like himself. He slips on the sneakers McCree gave him yesterday and heads off towards the kitchen area.

Just as he predicted he can see Morrison and Amari seated at the table with their chosen drinks. The smell of bratwurst and pancakes wafts through the air so that means he gets 3 out of 3 right. He stops dead in his tracks however as his eyes settle upon himself- McCree- leaning his back against the counter, sipping something from a large mug. He went for the jeans. McCree went straight for the ripped, charcoal jeans. He’s paired them with the converse and a dark grey tank top that must be McCree’s own. It’s slightly too large and hangs a bit loose around his hips. His (Hanzo’s) onyx hair is hanging down, looking a bit moist. _‘So he has showered today as well…’_ Hanzo’s thoughts flickers back to _his_ shower this morning and his stomach twists with several unnamed feelings as a flush works its way up his neck.  
The worst part of it all, is that he looks good. Hanzo has no illusions about his own looks, but he doesn’t actively try to look attractive for anyone. Yet McCree is just standing there casually, aura radiating attractiveness.  
A hand slaps him on the back and he’s greeted with a _“Hi, Jesse!”_ as Genji pushes past him, only to stop in his tracks and snap his attention to McCree. McCree looks up from his coffee mug, eyes wandering from Hanzo to Genji and he gives an unsure smile.

“Anija, what’s with the get-up?” Genji asks, voice bursting with childish curiosity. Hanzo curses his existence lowkey under his breath.

“Oh this?” McCree replies, waving his unoccupied hand towards his body.

“Jus tryin’ ta impress someone.” he says and _winks_. Hanzo feels a cold stone drop in his stomach. _Oh. No._

Genji’s eyes widen comically and Hanzo almost wishes his brother had been wearing his full visor because seeing his reaction was worse than just hearing it.

“Anija, are you sure you’re feeling well?” Genji giggle snorts, walking up to McCree and putting a hand to his forehead.

“All is well, brother.” McCree replies and does a finger gun motion with his hand. Genji’s head snaps towards Hanzo with a look on his face that says _‘unbelieveable’_. Hanzo decides to not get involved as he walks up to the buffet Reinhardt has prepared and puts piles of food on his plate. He really doesn’t want to talk to anyone but Amari flags him down as soon as she manages to get eye contact and he goes to sit with her and Morrison, mouth a flat line.

“Would you like some tea, Jesse dear?” she asks with a sweet smile. Hanzo should have guessed it was a trap.

“Yes, please.” he replies, he really does want tea. Amari pours him a generous cup of her Turkish peppermint tea and his mouth waters at the smell. He takes a sip and sighs, before munching on a piece of pancake.

“You two aren’t fooling me.” she says simply, taking a sip of her own tea. “Jesse wouldn’t drink my tea even if his life depended on it.” she chuckles. Hanzo just gives her a defeated look.

“No worries, sweetie. I won’t tell anyone, but you two could really benefit from studying each other’s behaviours and speech patterns if you want to pass as each other for however long this is going to last.”

It was true. They were so different in mannerisms and personality practically anyone could work this out pretty fast. Morrison grunts something that sounds like _‘Get a grip.’_ from behind his huge tablet but Hanzo decides to ignore it. Yeah, he’s tried that actually, didn’t take. McCree has vacated the kitchen area Hanzo notices, probably didn’t want to deal with Genji anymore. Said cyborg soon plops down beside him, a bottle of swirly blue and green liquid in his hand. He takes a sip and grimaces, mumbling something about never getting used to the taste. His eyes are soon on Hanzo however and Hanzo forces himself to look at him.

“Yeah?” he enquires, hoping to sound casual and nonchalant like McCree. 

“Jesse, what did you do to my brother? Or in the case you didn’t do anything; do you know what has happened? He was fine yesterday morning, well as fine as Hanzo can be being in a perpetually gloomy mood. Did he hit his head or something out on that mission?”

Hanzo blinks at Genji’s words. He wasn’t- or was he? Was he always in a bad mood? He realises he’s taking too long to answer so he shakes his head slowly, giving Genji a shrug.

“I don’t know, Genji.” he says, his words carefully laid out. Amari watches him from behind her tea cup. 

“Maybe I’m still in stasis and this is just a wacky dream.” Genji muses, slurping his neon liquid from the plastic straw in the bottle. Hanzo hums thoughtfully.

“Do you want to spar later today, Jesse? I still haven’t paid you back for last time!” Genji exclaims gleefully, grinning at Hanzo as he slams his now empty bottle on the table. Morrison mumbles something about _‘noisy, young punks’_ from behind his tablet. Hanzo racks his brain for a good answer.

“I’m sorry Genji dear, I’ve booked Jesse for today.” Amari says, daintily taking a sip of tea. Hanzo sends her a look of thankful relief.

“You’re lucky this time, Jess! But I’ll get you!” Genji says and hits Hanzo’s shoulder playfully.

“Yeah, I’m sure you will.” Hanzo replies, forcing himself to wink at his brother. Genji seems pleased as he excuses himself. As soon as he is out of range Hanzo lets out a breath of relief. Amari tsks. 

“I’ve bailed you out this time, but I won’t always be able to save you.”

“I know. Thank you.” he replies curtly, bowing deeply to her as he delivers his empty plate to Reinhardt and makes a beeline back to his room before he can tangle up in any other incidents. McCree is waiting for him outside his room and Hanzo slows his steps slightly. The gunslinger is looking sheepish and if Hanzo could guess, he probably wants to apologize for earlier. Considering what Hanzo did this morning however, McCree shouldn’t really have to apologize for anything, ever again.

“Hanzo I-”

“It’s fine. No need to apologize.” Hanzo interrupts him, watching his face fall flat.

“Cause I really didn’t mean to-”

“I said it’s fine. Now what do you want?” 

He immediately regrets his stern tone, but he’s strung tighter than a bowstring right now, with everything that has happened, and they’re not even a full day into this mess.

“It’s about, uhm, my arm. I tried to tell you yesterday but you weren’t really receptive to much so…”

Hanzo’s bad conscience could probably fill a bottomless, dark pit by now. McCree motions towards his own room and Hanzo nods in silent agreement. He sits down in McCree’s sofa as the gunslinger digs around in a closet, probably looking for tools. It occurs to Hanzo that he has actually never been in the man’s room. Hasn’t had any reason to, but his imagination during certain endeavours has supplied him with some images. He swallows as warmth creeps up his neck. Not here, not now. It’s looks like someone lives there, but it’s still tidy, and not actually filled to the brim with cheap cowboy memorabilia as he had imagined. Hanzo is pleasantly surprised. There’s one question still bugging him however.

“Why are you wearing my hair down?” he says, surprised with himself feeling stupid for asking. He can hear McCree sigh.

“Your hair tie broke. Not the fancy yellow scarf thing, but the little black one you wear underneath. I wasn’t able to tie your hair up with the scarf alone so I just let it be.” he answers honestly. Hanzo actually feels disappointed and he is annoyed by that very fact. _‘For one second I thought perhaps you found me more handsome like that.’_

McCree comes back with a little black tool box and picks a tiny screwdriver looking tool from it. It takes a second for Hanzo to register that McCree is silently waiting for him to give him his arm. He lays the metal prosthetic into McCree’s lap and watches as the gunslinger checks a myriad of tiny screws and bolts.

“I may have accidentally showered with your arm this morning. I hope that that didn’t cause any damage to it…” he says guiltily. It would have been 100% his fault, since he didn’t let McCree finish talking yesterday when he was trying to tell him about it.

“It’s fine darli- Hanzo. It was made to withstand water. Me falling into a lake and staying there wouldn’t damage this baby. Would be quite ridiculous if I were to become useless from a little bit ‘o rain.” he says, now working a tool Hanzo doesn’t recognize inside a panel on the side of the arm.

“She needs a little bit of oil on the joints though, half a drop should suffice.” he says, pulling a small pipette from the tool box and administering the translucent oil. He secures the panel back in place, double checking if any screws are still loose before rubbing his hands together.

“All done.” he says smiling.

“Do you do this every day?” Hanzo blurts out, actually and honestly curious. McCree shakes his head.

“Nah, I usually check before and after every mission, then maybe every third to fourth day. She’s sturdy this one, but better safe than sorry, eh?”

He goes silent for a moment, seemingly contemplating something important. Hanzo gives him a questioning look.

“There’s one thing you’ll need to do every day though, and it’s gonna be uncomfortable.” 

Hanzo tilts his head in a questioning manner.

“Come, it’s better we do this in the bathroom.”

He joins McCree in his bathroom, nervousness settling on the edge of his mind. The gunslinger flips the lid of his toilet down and motions for Hanzo to sit. He does so without protest.

“Ain’t no sugarcoatin’ this; you’re gonna have to detach the arm and then apply this here solution to the stump.” he says deadpan and Hanzo swallows audibly. The air between them is suddenly thick with suspense and Hanzo can feel the uncertainty and nervousness positively radiate from McCree. This was something he hadn’t imagined at all. It just hadn’t crossed his mind. Of course there would be maintenance on prosthetics, both in the mechanical way and the bodily way. McCree now had to lay himself bare for Hanzo and put _trust_ in him to do this, to take care of his mechanical arm. He looks at himself- McCree- in the eyes and nods slowly, holding out his arm.

“I’m used to doing this, so I don’t really feel it that much anymore, but you’re probably gonna feel a jolt and some pain the moment I disconnect the nerves.” he says quietly, stroking the edge where metal meets skin tenderly. Hanzo swallows at the contact.

“It’s important that you do this every day since the skin and scar tissue gets irritated easily and it’s important to disconnect and reconnect the nerves to keep them alive so to speak.”

“I can help you with this if you like. Took me a while to be able to do it by myself…” he finishes softly.

Hanzo would lie if he said he wasn’t nervous. He croaks out a raspy _‘Go on.’_ , better to get it over with fast. McCree puts a hand on his thigh and squeezes. He’s oddly affectionate and Hanzo’s mind races a mile a minute. The gunslinger puts both his hands at the edge of the arm where metal meets skin and from what Hanzo can see, hooks his fingers into some sort of hidden latches and then he pushes down. _‘A jolt and some pain’_ doesn’t even begin to cover it. Hanzo reels back and screams as the nerves in his arm metaphorically catches on fire. It’s a pulsing, white hot kind of pain that he doesn’t want anyone to ever experience. He clutches the stump and yelps as that hurts too.

“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay, I got ya.” McCree soothes, squeezing his thigh again. Hanzo breathes through his nose, trying to calm down and focus. McCree inspects the limb without touching it and hums before getting the bottle of solution and a soft towel.

“It looks to be bit tender, and there’s some redness, but it isn’t bad.” he says, pouring the saline smelling liquid on the towel. He gently dabs and wipes it over the scar tissue and Hanzo breathes in relief at the cool feeling the solution blesses him with.

“I reacted just like you did right now the first time. Think I even cried. Mechanical limbs are damn nifty and of tremendous help to unlucky people, but goddamn if they have one hell of a backside.” he continues softly.

Hanzo stays silent. McCree has to go through this, every single day. He has to experience that blindingly, searing pain every fucking day. If he didn’t respect the gunslinger before, he fucking does now. And for him to talk about it like it’s no big deal anymore? Yeah sure you could develop at least some level of pain threshold but goddamnit, rendering this experience _painless_ couldn’t truly be possible. McCree is squeezing his shoulder now instead, looking concerned. Hanzo lets out a soft sigh and a low _‘I’m fine.’_ Even though he actually isn’t.  
McCree nods in understanding before he picks up the prosthetic from the counter and settles it snugly against his elbow.

“Right, I’m gonna reconnect the nerves again. Ready?”

He’ll never be ready, but what can he do? He simply nods and stares at the wall in front of him. The pain is just as bad as earlier. This time he heaves and he can feel himself sweating. McCree orders him to flex his fingers and he does so in the haze of pain. Everything appears to be in order and McCree steadies Hanzo out of the bathroom and lays him down on his bed. 

“Here, take this.” he says and hands Hanzo a pill of some kind and a bottle of water. He pops it into his mouth and swallows the water greedily before his head falls back onto the pillows.

“Have some shut-eye, you’ve earned it.” the gunslinger says softly and Hanzo swears he can see a small smile. Perhaps Hanzo should smile more often. McCree makes it seem so easy. His eyes has no chance of staying open any longer and soon he drifts off into a comfortable and dreamless sleep.

A hand treads through his hair as he sleeps, before guiltily retracting. Its owner battling confusing feelings of their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Please consider leaving kudos/comments if you enjoyed my writing<3
> 
> You can find me at http://8-bitcyborg.tumblr.com/ as well!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There might be Gency in here if you squint real hard. Things get even steamier. Jesse has a realisation. Jesse has way more self control than Hanzo.

When he’s sure that Hanzo is far away in dreamland, Jesse silently sneaks away to Mercy’s lab. The good doctor is sat at her desk, eyebrows scrunched up in concentration as she chews on a pen. She appears to be reading some actual physical documents and Jesse knocks politely on the wall to get her attention. She perks up when she notices him and rise from her chair.

“Jesse, good morning! What can I help you with?” she says smiling.

Jesse is about to tip his hat in greeting at her, but he isn’t wearing any hat. The gesture is clear however and Angela chuckles, holding a hand to her mouth out of politeness.

“Yeah, keep forgettin’.” Jesse laughs, tucking Hanzo’s long hair behind his ear. 

“I sure miss my hat, but I bet you Hanzo would rather be dead than getting caught wearing the thing.” he says with mirth.

Angela’s eyes goes a bit softer. “How is he?” she asks, voice small and uncertain. Jesse really feels for her. She feels guilty about this whole thing, as she does with a lot of things really.

“He’s sleeping. I had to break it to him about my arm. Did my usual post mission maintenance, then we went through the more painful part of disconnecting the nerves and so on. He was a trooper about it, but still, it’s a nasty experience and it’s gonna suck for a few more times before he eventually, _hopefully_ , will get somewhat used to it.” he says. Angela nods solemnly.

“Would be preferable however, that we won’t have to do this many more times.” he adds.

Angela sighs and walks over to her desk again, picking up the papers she was reading earlier.

“I invented the Caduceus you know, Jesse. And we did so much extensive testing, both in labs, training sessions and on the battlefield itself.” her free hand balls into a fist.

“They even ran tests without my authorization. On animals, on criminals. Jesse, this technology came with a huge price and we may think it was worth it, but was it? Sorry, I digress…” she says, voice softening again.

“I never once experienced this type of malfunction. All the other cases came from the outside of Overwatch. Back then I chalked it up to faulty components or a mistake by the user, but now, I’m not so sure anymore. Maybe this is my punishment for tampering with humanity like I do?” she pauses, looks away. Jesse knows _who_ and _what_ she is referring to, one name especially lies heavy and unspoken between them. He wants to hug her, but he has one question that really needs answering.

“What happened to the people who got swapped?”

The way Angela’s eyes fall to the floor sort of answers his question. A stone drops cold in his stomach.

“I never heard of a case where anyone recovered…” she says, her voice so small he barely registers it.

So, they could potentially end up having to live with each others bodies for the rest of their lives. It was actually rather fucked-up. Jesse combs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture. He could really use a cigar right now. Angela looks at him with sad, pleading eyes. Yeah, Hanzo would probably have a serious meltdown when he found out.

“But this was years ago, Winston is a brilliant scientist, we may have hope still.” Angela says, but her voice betrays her; she is not convinced of her own words, no insult to Winston.

Jesse coughs to clear his throat. It’s too much right now.

“Is Hanzo’s bow still here? He didn’t bring it with him to his room yesterday. Figured I could pick it up for him.” Jesse says, steering the conversation elsewhere.

“It’s in storage.” Angela replies. She looks so defeated. Jesse swallows his own resentments (really, it was stupid harboring such feelings when Angela hadn’t done it on purpose) and cradles her into a tight hug. She hugs him back, her arms tight around his back and her face in his neck. Poor woman could use a rest once in a while (and maybe someone to hold her on a regular basis and tell her it’ll be alright).  
They were called ninjas for a reason, and that’s exactly what Genji was, a goddamn ninja. Jesse hadn’t heard the other enter the room before he had coughed and he and Angela split apart hastily, both trying to not look guilty (he shouldn’t feel guilty for hugging a friend dangit, but then again, he wasn’t in his own body at the moment). Genji clearly looks amused (and was he slightly annoyed as well? Jesse couldn’t tell, even if the younger Shimada was visorless at the moment).

“Another piece of the puzzle falls into place, Anija.” Genji says cryptically, folding his arms. Angela has thankfully gathered her wits again.

“Ah there you are, Genji! Right on time.” she smiles and goes to touch the cyborg’s arm, leading him towards her examination table.

“I’ll see you later, _Hanzo._ ” she says, giving Jesse an apologetic smile.

“Later, Angela.” he says and nods to her, exiting the medbay and heading for their weapons storage.

~

He’d hoped he’d be alone in there, but no suck luck. He finds Jack, doing what looks to be a stock check. The ever tidy and neat Jack Morrison. Jesse smiles crookedly as a few fond memories of the old days passes in his mind. He greets the man and gets a grunt of acknowledgement in return.  
Hanzo’s Storm Bow is nowhere to be seen. Jesse will have to ask. Steady now, steady.

“I’m sorry Morrison, but where did my Storm Bow get stored after my last mission?” _Nailed it._  
Jack finishes writing something on his pad before fixing Jesse with a neutral look.

“Shimada’s Storm Bow is in the second titanium locker to the left in the back, Jesse.” he replies.

“Ah th- hey, you know?” _Well, so much for keeping up appearances._

“Yeah, Ana does too. Don’t forget we’re old, we’ve seen some shit. We know stuff.” he says, then laughs. Jesse stares.

“That and the fact that Shimada is pretty anal about us storing his bow properly when he isn’t able to do it himself. He picked out that exact locker for himself and no one else gets to use it. If I hadn’t known about the swap prior to this, I would have known something was up the moment you _asked_ me where it was.”

Well, Jesse had always thought old people were scary. Perceptive as fuck, especially those who used to be (and still were) soldiers. Jack doesn’t further the conversation, so Jesse heads to the back and locates the right locker. He swipes his access card, and a prompt for a code shines on the display. He didn’t have any code!

“2521139.” Jack says from behind the gun racks he’s currently counting. Jesse raises an eyebrow.

“It’s the word for _‘bow’_ in Japanese, as in the weapon. Each number correspond to a romanized letter in the Latin alphabet. In case you were wondering. Which you were.”

God- _dang_ , old people were scary. Jesse punches in the code and the lock opens, letting him pick up Hanzo’s Storm Bow and his quiver. There’s still many arrows left in it. He says a hasty _‘Thanks’_ to Jack, who only graces him with an acknowledging grunt again, deep in concentration.

He’s only been gone for roughly an hour but he should probably head back and stash Hanzo’s bow and quiver in his room before going about with his daily routines. Genji suddenly comes into existence from nowhere yet again and Jesse jumps in surprise. The ninja lets out an amused chuckle and says something in Japanese. ‘Fuck.’  
This was exactly what Jesse had been afraid of. Playing the part of Hanzo wouldn’t be too difficult, except for the instance he should meet Genji alone. He plays briefly with the thought of just telling the cyborg, if would make things a hella lotta easier if they could just come clean and inform everyone of what had happened. Now why _didn’t_ they do that really? Neither Mercy nor Winston had forbid them doing so. An odd realisation hits him then; he’d kept his mouth shut for Hanzo’s sake. Hanzo hadn’t told anyone, and the archer didn’t seem like he wanted to either. He’d have to talk to him about that really. Genji seemingly repeats his words (Jesse does have a good ear, he recognizes the sounds, even if he doesn’t understand their meaning).

“Genji, listen- I hit my head really hard. What you’re saying to me now holds no meaning. But Mercy says it’ll pass. Please talk to me in English if you could be so kind.”

Genji’s faceplate is in place, so Jesse can’t see his reaction, but he sure as hell can imagine it. It’s a half crappy lie, he’d probably see right through it.

“That is horrible, Anija!” He knew what _‘anija’_ meant at least.

“Even though it sounds totally ridiculous, there are incidents where these things have happened, I’m so sad to hear this, Hanzo.” 

Jesse would never cease to be amazed of how much Genji cared for his brother. He knew their story in full. How Genji and Hanzo’s lives used to be, what Hanzo did to Genji and how Genji had been saved and found his new path in life. He’d also heard the story of how Genji had found Hanzo again and made peace with him, leading him to joining Overwatch as well. He only really missed Hanzo’s part of the tale, what he did after leaving Hanamura.  
Jesse remembers how he used to despise the man at first, before he even met him. He’d told Genji he wouldn’t hesitate putting a bullet in his head if he ever saw him. The youngest version of Genji had agreed, describing pretty violent and graphic actions with a sword and several shurikens. The older version of Genji spoke of forgiveness, and how nothing good would come out of it being bad blood between them. Jesse had had to mull that over for a _long_ time. Eventually he relented, and promised Genji he’d do his brother no harm. This lead them up to today, not enemies, not quite friends, just colleagues on a battlefield. Jesse cared for Hanzo, just as he did for all of his Overwatch brothers and sisters, but he couldn’t help the tiny voice in the back of his head telling him not to _fully_ put his trust in the man. So much for that. The body swap disaster had really put a wrench in it. But so far, so good?  
He gives Genji a curt nod and motions that he really has to go. Genji squeezes his shoulder but says nothing. Good, this is good. Genji is the affectionate one, Hanzo is the uptight, stiff one. Acting skills perfect.

~

Hanzo is still asleep when he gets back to his room. Jesse does his best not to make noise and wake the archer. He looks so peaceful where he’s lying, even drooling a little bit. Jesse lets out a very quiet laugh. He is sorta looking at himself right now and boy is that still weird. He could really, _really_ use a smoke right now. Hanzo would probably kill him, but it was probably worth it. He does not reach for his cigars however, instead opting for lying on the sofa, hands propped behind his head. Not a full day into this body swap disaster and things were already sort of a mess. On the outside he might look calm about the whole thing, but truth was, he had indeed freaked out when he first woke up as well. He just- dealt with it a bit better than Hanzo. He wanted to believe Winston could fix this, he had to. 

_~Flashback~_

Light. Head swimming. No pain. Voices?

Jesse groans as he tries to move, his body protesting wildly. Someone is there with him immediately, helping him sit up. They feed him water and he downs it all in one gulp, coughing as some of it gets into his lungs instead. Someone scolds him, Angela? His blurry vision clears slowly and he can soon make out Angela and Winston. He’s in Angela’s lab, lying in one of her beds. The good doctor is wearing a very serious and worried look on her face as she plants her stethoscope on his bare chest. His very bare chest. For a horrifying moment he wonders why Angela has _shaved_ his chest while he has been knocked out cold, but as he lifts a hand to trace over the now hairless expanse he gets an eyeful of tattoo, or rather, armful of tattoo. He stares transfixed at his left arm, no this isn’t _his_ arm! Hanzo? 

“Hanzo, are you feeling well? Your heart rate is rising.” Angela asks worriedly.

Jesse looks at her, then to the other beds in the room. There, on the bed to his right, lies Jesse himself. Holy shit. Is he dead? And now seeing his body from the outside? No, that’s not quite it. He looks at Winston and back to Angela.

“Uuuh guys…” he starts, faltering a bit.

“Something’s terribly wrong here. I’m- it’s-, I’m not Hanzo, it’s me, Jesse, and I’m apparently somehow in Hanzo’s body…”

Angela’s eyes goes impossibly wide and her mouth hangs open in shock. Winston’s eyebrows go through the roof, before he mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like _‘I can’t believe I get to see this in person.’_

“Scheiße!” Angela exclaims, slamming her hands down on her desk in frustration. Jesse winces. Seeing the kind and pacifist doctor get violent with her furniture never did bode well. She pinches the bridge of her nose and turn to Jesse again, her eyes having changed from angry to somber.

“Are you in any pain? Is anything else out of the ordinary?” she asks. Jesse shakes his head.

She motions for Winston to join her, throwing Jesse a look that says _‘Wait here.’_ and they exit the medbay.

Beside him, Hanzo stirs.

_~End flashback~_

Some rustling from his bedroom catches his ears and Jesse perks up. Maybe Hanzo was awake? Silence settles again for a few minutes before a low groan can be heard. Was he having a nightmare? He gets up from his couch and ambles to the bedroom, peeking through the door. The archer moans and Jesse flushes. _Jeez, this is actually a bit awkward._

“McCree…”

~

Warm hands embrace him from behind. One is metal but it doesn’t matter as the temperature of the room they’re in is reaching scorching hot levels. A kiss is planted to the back of his ear, a soft chuckle sending shivers down his back. Said hands roam his bare chest, fingers ghosting over his nipples and he lets out a soft gasp.

“You like this, darlin’?” a low rumble asks him and he nods frantically. “Yes…” he whines, leaning back into a broad chest and letting a hot mouth kiss and bite at his neck. 

“You’re so pretty like this, sugar.” the voice continues, hands now massaging his hips. He cranes his head around as much as he can, wanting to kiss that sexy mouth himself. The man behind him complies as he kisses the corner of his mouth and captures his lips fully.

“McCree…” Hanzo breathes as their lips part. McCree grins and kisses his jawline, back towards his ear letting his hot breath ghost over Hanzo’s skin.

“Call me… Jesse, _Hanzo._ ” 

Hanzo moans as Jesse palms him through his jeans, going positively weak in the knees. 

“Jesse…” he chants. “Jesse, _please._ ” 

“Please _what_ , honey?”

“Please, _touch me._ ” 

He can feel the grin against his skin, Jesse murmuring sweet words to him. The cowboy makes short process of the button and zipper of his jeans and his mind soon spins as Jesse’s hand wraps around his cock. The pace is torturously slow, Hanzo still leaning back towards Jesse’s chest, a hand buried in the cowboy’s mocha locks.

“You’re so beautiful like this, so handsome. I love it when you wear your hair down.” Jesse whispers hoarsely and Hanzo gasps as the gunslinger’s thumb slides over the slit, slicking up the head and increasing the pace.

“You’re so good, so good for me, my sweet honey, sugar, darlin’, _dragon prince-”_

 

The world goes white and overloads, a languid moan spills from his lips as his eyes abruptly flutter open. Hanzo blinks as a room he does not recognize comes into view. His breathing is ragged and he wipes at his face. For a split second he freezes as he sees himself standing in the doorway looking concerned, but then he remembers; body swap. The dream bleeds through his mind and he winces as realization settles in. He feels... wet. He’s had a goddamn _wet dream_. In McCree’s bed, with McCree’s body. In a timeframe of not even 5 hours he’s already sullied the gunslinger’s persona _twice_.  
McCree is still looking at him from the doorway, seemingly debating whether or not he should step into the room. 

“Hanzo, are you alright? Did you have a bad dream?” he asks. Hanzo silently thanks any deities that cares to listen for not having aroused suspicion in the other.

“Yeah…” he mumbles, twisting to get out of bed. Oh. Right. _Wet dream_. Thankfully he’s still wearing the dark blue sweatpants McCree gave him. They’re dark enough to cover up any spots. He gets out of bed and scurries past the gunslinger, pausing in the livingroom when he sees his Storm Bow and quiver. 

“I picked it up for you. Figured you’d want to give ‘er a checkup.” McCree says with a smile.

Hanzo’s mind is reeling. McCree went to pick up his Storm Bow for him. That’s actually very kind of him. But he’d need a code? How did he get the code? Yes he had been itching to work on her again. But a certain _problem_ needed to be taken care of first. He swallows and picks her up, not looking at McCree. 

“Thank you.” he says curtly. “I- I have to go. Let’s talk later.” 

He’s out the door before Jesse can even reply. Jesse falls back down on his sofa, finally allowing himself to feel his ears _burn_. That… had not been a _bad_ dream. That had been a _very good_ dream. And _he_ had been involved in it…

_‘McCree…’_

_‘Jesse… Jesse, please.’_

_‘Please, touch me.’_

Hanzo had been having a very interesting dream, about _him_. It makes his mind spin and his cheeks flush. The only lamentable fact had been that Jesse had to listen to _‘himself’_ moan and whine and that _was_ awkward. But he’d sounded so… deliciously _desperate_. What the hell? He didn’t see the archer _that_ way, did he? Sure he was… handsome. But looks wasn’t everything. Hanzo might be good (extraordinary) with the bow, reliable as a teammate, a bit stern but reasonable enough. But he was also… also… Uptight, stiff, unfriendly… yeah!  
_‘Now you’re just making shit up, Jesse McCree. You know he isn’t all that bad. God, shut up.’_  
He cards his fingers through his loose hair out of habit, the onyx tresses soft to the touch. He did like his lovers long-haired… _‘Fuck’._  
He gets up and makes a beeline for his bathroom. Once inside he faces the mirror and lets out a long breath before repeating the action. His reflection greets him with a picture of Hanzo, still dressed in the jeans and tank top from earlier this morning, tattooed arm raised to let his fingers comb through his hair. He tilts his head backwards and shoots his hip to the side. _God fucking dangit Hanzo was one handsome son of a-_  
He shakes his head violently to rid himself of any inappropriate thoughts. _‘Shit.’_

He runs to his living room and digs Peacekeeper out of her case, and settles for trying to break his record in dismantling, cleaning and reassembling her again.

This body swap disaster was going to be one hell of a ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Please consider leaving kudos/comments if you enjoyed my writing<3
> 
> You can find me at http://8-bitcyborg.tumblr.com/ as well!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluffy stuff, setting up some plot devices to be used later, and building some characters and interaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see!  
> I am so, so sorry for having made you guys wait so long for an update. Life kicked me in the nuts and I lost my inspiration somewhere down the line as well. I feel like it's at least partically back now though, and I've got some new ideas to add to this fic as well.
> 
> Please enjoy this update<3
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> Please consider leaving kudos/comments if you enjoyed my writing<3
> 
> You can find me at http://8-bitcyborg.tumblr.com/ as well!

If you were only talking about dismantling and reassembling, Jesse could do that to his Peacekeeper in 12 seconds flat. If you were talking about actually cleaning the parts too, the seconds could potentially rack up a lot. Nevertheless, he was top dog when it came to handguns, no doubt. Gabriel Reyes was probably the only one who could challenge him and actually put his record to shame. Of course he could, he had been his mentor after all. His hands stills over his half dismantled gun as memories of his old commander starts occupying his mind.  
Gabriel Reyes, commander of the now defunct Blackwatch, Jesse’s home and anchor for god knows how many years. He’d been nothing more than a loud-mouthed punk with way too much bravado when Blackwatch had found him and his gang, busting their asses real good. A rough half of his gang had been killed, the rest thrown in prison faster than you could say _‘horse dong’_. Only Jesse had been given a choice, or rather the illusion of a choice. Nevertheless, he was thankful for it to this day. For Gabriel’s patience, for Gabriel’s tough love. He’d spent many a night over the years, pondering how his life could have been, who he would have been, had he not met Gabriel Mothafuckin’ Reyes.

_‘You best remember this, kid. Ain’t no one out there comin’ for ya, ain’t no one from that shithole who cares. Here you’ll have a bed, 4 meals a day, a purpose. You’re meant for something greater, I know this, you know this. From now on it’s me whippin’ you into shape, and you will thank me for it some day.’_

A somber feeling settles in his stomach as Gabriel’s words linger in faint echoes. Gabriel had been crazy tough on him, but he had been fair in everything he did. Jesse knew Gabriel had cared for both him and Genji like sons. Yeah, he was immensely thankful to his old mentor. Too bad it was too late to say that to his face.

~

Winston pushes his glasses up on his broad nose, scowling as he realises he’s still got peanut butter on his fingers. Several empty jars litters the side of his desk, along with banana peels and empty water bottles. He’d forgone sleep last night, way too worked up and excited about the current situation with Jesse McCree and Hanzo Shimada. He felt a bit guilty about that, but as a scientist, the old, classified files on the older body swap incidents were tremendously interesting reading material. It was a science where they knew next to nothing, and what was more exciting than that? Angela wasn’t nearly as excited and Winston supposed he could understand that. The doctor bore tremendous guilt in her heart about the whole thing, the invention being hers after all.  
He ambles over to one of his work desks, Angela’s Caduceus lying primly on top of it, its panel open and connected to Athena.

“Find anything yet, Athena?” he asks the computer.

“Not yet, Winston. I’ve finished categorizing all the blueprints, old and new, I’m now scanning all the layers, codes, logs and backup data, and doing cross scans on older incidents and similar technology. It will take some time still.”

“I see. Thank you, Athena.”

He opens a new jar of peanut butter and pulls up the next report waiting in line.

~

The rest of the day is uneventful for Jesse McCree. Hanzo is nowhere to be seen, probably holed up in his room dying of embarrassment he muses. Tracer, Genji and Ana has left for a minor scouting mission, which is a relief honestly. No needing to try to avoid Genji. He still can’t believe the cyborg bought into his lame-ass bluff earlier.  
He finds Hana in the commons room alone in the evening, playing a video game. She doesn’t even look up when he enters the room to sit down on the end of the couch. She finishes the level she’s on before she throws a sentence in Korean at him. When he doesn’t respond, she pauses her game to look at him, a delicate eyebrow raised.

“What do you mean by that?” he tries, watching her pull the sleeves of her oversized pink hoodie back over her hands.

“I said _‘Are you feeling well? I heard your last mission went a bit bad’_. Are you getting rusty already, Hanzo- _ssi_?”

 _Of course_ Hanzo knew Korean, or at least he was trying to learn it from Hana. This was getting ridiculous. Hana throws her bag of colourful gummy bears onto his lap before she resumes her game. He dutifully shoves a handful into his mouth. If she offered, Hanzo probably accepted. Yeah, logical.

“I thought you hated the yellow ones.” Hana says, not taking her eyes off the screen.

Hanzo hated yellow gummy bears. Of course he did. Jesse straightens his mouth in a thin line, annoyance catching up to him. Exactly why had he thought it’d be easy and fun to play the part of Hanzo again? If anything it has made him realize he knows next to nothing about the archer, at least not small and personal things like this.

“Hana, I’m just- I’m tired.” he says, wiping his face with his hand.

“What happened to _‘Ms. Song’_?” Hana inquires innocently.

“Hana, you’re _real cute_ , as a button and all, but I’m just tired and-” 

He physically shuts his mouth by slamming his hand over it. Hana’s eyebrows has risen through the roof and she gapes at him. _'Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fu-'_

“Oh my god!”

_‘Shit fuck fuckity fuck.’_

“The jig is up, _Lúcio_! Winston finished it didn’t he? The holographic camouflage tech! Oh my god, we’re gonna have so much fun with this!”

_‘What?’_

He stares bewildered at her as she comes up real close, almost in his lap, as she scrutinises his face from all angles and caresses his tattooed arm.

“Wow, it looks so real-” she whispers in awe, fingers suddenly trailing through his hair.

“-almost… too real.”

Her hands are on his beard and her mouth transforms into a thin line as she fiddles with a few strands of hair. Her cheeks are dusted pink and she looks about ready to combust.

“H-Hanzo I’m so, _so_ sor-”

“Hana, please, aaah shiiit…” He removes her hands gently from his face and she scoots back to her spot on the sofa. She is watching him intently and Jesse curses inwardly. He has no choice now.

“Hana, it’s me, Jesse. Okay so this is gonna sound _wild_ but the short version is that Hanzo and I swapped bodies. The mission, it got messy. Angela is devastated, it was the Caduceus that did this. We didn’t tell anyone because… fuck if I know! I guess I kinda thought Hanzo would have a problem with everyone knowing but fuck if this isn’t turning into a real stupid mess pretty quick _because_ we haven’t told anyone!”

He groans in frustration as he sinks back into the soft cushions. Beside him Hana looks like she is trying to start a sentence but failing several times.

“So…” he starts, hoping to change the subject as he glances over to the Meka pilot.

“What’s this _‘holographic camouflage tech’_ you mentioned? Sounds like something real nifty.”

“It’s something Lúcio and I have been collaborating with Winston on. The name speaks for itself I assume. We thought we’d develop a prototype and mess around with it. Prank you guys and stuff…”

“-but _oh my god_ if this isn’t the coolest thing I have seen in a while!” she says, voice full of glee as she approaches him again. He leans slightly away from her as she gets up in his face again. She tsks.

“Stop ruining my fun, Jesse. Hanzo is… really nice to look at up close. Too bad you never really get many chances to do so.”

He blinks at her. She’s right though, but… 

“He’s literally twice your age.” he deadpans. She actually laughs.

“And so what? Never had a crush on an older guy or gal, Jesse?” she says and _winks_ at him. 

“Or are you perhaps... _jealous_?” 

He laughs then, way too fast, mumbling _‘ridiculous’_ under his breath. Hana snorts.

“I’m not a child you know.” she says, actually sounding exasperated.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s understandable. He is an attractive m’fucker.” 

“-don’t tell him I said that.”

Silence settles over the pair as Hana shoves gummy bears into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. She picks up her controller again, starting up a new level.

“So when are you gonna tell him?” she casually asks after a while.

“What?”

“When are you gonna tell him you want to get into his pants? Or well, technically you _are_ already. Do you have any juicy info on-”

“What? No! Hana, seriously I don’t-”

They’re interrupted as Lúcio skates backwards into the commons room, doing a little dance before dropping into a split.

“Thank you, thank you!” he sing songs smoothly as he removes his headphones, and goes to plop down onto the cushy chair by Hana.

“Eey, my favourite Song, how’s it going, break any world records yet?” he greets Hana, nodding at the tv-screen. She makes a non-committal sound, deep in concentration as if she’s actually attempting a world record and maybe she actually is. Lúcio spares Jesse a curious glance and the gunslinger wonders if he should have holed himself up in his room as well. He’s steadily going mad from all the secrecy here.

“Good evening, Mr. Shimada.” Lúcio tries. “You here to see Hana break world records as well?”

“I am. Ms. Song is quite talented with video games.” he says as seriously as he can muster, folding his arms. Lúcio is giving him an odd look, Hana bites her lower lip, her eyes going smaller. Is she… laughing? Lúcio glances between the two of them, more and more confused by the minute.

“Though it would seem _Ms. Song_ has something _very funny_ she would like to share with us?” Jesse grits out between his teeth, watching as Hana just dissolves into quiet snickering before she quickly succumbs to full-blown laughter, controller dropping onto the sofa and gummy bears rolling off her lap and onto the floor.  
Jesse pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s trying to keep quiet, for Hanzo’s sake he’s really trying, but god dangit!

“Hana, for the love of fffuck-” he starts.

“I can’t help it!” she screams in laughter. “This is way too entertaining! I am thinking of all the pranks we could do with this!”

“Christ on a cracker.” he replies, snatching the still half-full bag of gummy bears off off Hana’s lap.

“I’m so done with you right now.” he says as he shoves gummy bears into his mouth. “Consider this compensation!” he finishes before he stalks away. Lúcio is at a loss for words watching Hana dry her tears on the sleeve of her hoodie. Had Hanzo Shimada gone mad? This had to be the weirdest exchange on the Overwatch base so far. And that was impressive considering they all were such a mish-mash of colourful personalities.

“Uhm, so…” he starts.

“Oh Lú, you are not gonna _believe_ this!”

~

Jesse settles for watching some shitty wild west tv-shows with his newly pilfered gummy bears in his room until he realises it’s getting late. Trying to sleep proves unfruitful and he sighs as he glances at his alarm clock, the infernal device shining hostile and red numbers in his face.

 _‘02:27… Well fuck off.’_ he grumbles inwardly. A brief moment later he is dressed again and heading for one of the training rooms furthest away from the living quarters. Determined to get in a few rounds of good ole’ target shooting.

“Welcome, Agent: Hanzo Shimada.” Athena’s voice announces as she scans his retinas. “Logging of current session activated. Awaiting command for set-up.”

_‘Fuck.’_

“Initiate Agent: Jesse McCree session log. Swap.” he tries.

“I am sorry, I cannot give you access to this agent’s logs.” Athena answers crisply. Jesse curses under his breath.  
A soft twang sound reaches his ears and he perks up. Someone is using the lane furthest away, and Jesse could safely bet his Peacekeeper on who it is.  
He silently slinks over and leans himself on one of the pillars. Yep, there’s Hanzo alright, shirtless and sweaty, hair tied into a neat ponytail, and bow and arrow poised readily.

“Initializing training sequence Weapon: Archery - BAA7099-2 in 3, 2, 1, Go!” Athena’s voice commands and Hanzo lunges forwards, three arrows flying from his bow one after the other and hitting bullseye. He twists to the side and flings two more arrows towards the pop-up targets, also hitting smack dab in the middle. Jesse watches him dance around the track, arrows flying, all finding their targets more or less perfectly. One arrow hits the outer side of one target, while the other one only graces the second target. Jesse can see the annoyance plain as day on his (own) face. The last few targets pop up and Hanzo charges the wall, kicking at it and doing a flip up in the air, bow poised and arrows flying, they each hit their targets albeit crookedly. Hanzo’s twists in the air, and for one tense moment it looks like he’s not gonna be able to land on his feet but rather his neck.

 _‘Don’t you fucking break my neck you asshole!’_ Jesse’s voice screams in his own head, his nails digging into his skin as he clenches his fists.

Hanzo does land on his feet however (Jesse lets out a breath of relief), but trips forwards, stumbling for a few feet before he regains his balance and straightens just in time to fire an arrow at the last target, hitting the bullseye. He makes a grimace as Athena’s voice filters through the speaker system.

“Well done Agent: Jesse McCree. Your performance in Weapons: Archery has increased with 0,7% since the last attempt. You performance has increased a total of 79% since the current session was started. Analyzing comparison results. You are 21% behind Agent: Hanzo Shimada in base performance.”

Hanzo snorts loudly, a soft _‘kuso!’_ spilling from his lips. Jesse tentatively approaches the archer, who tenses up when he senses someone there. His head snaps towards Jesse and while he initially looks irritated his eyes soften slightly upon meeting the gunslinger’s eyes.

“Ah, it’s you.” he greets curtly, turning his attention back to inspecting his bow.

“Quite the performance you put on there. I know you’re pretty handy with that bow, but I admit it was pretty wild seeing _‘myself’_ doing those tricks o’ yours, up in the air and all.” Jesse says honestly, although still a tiny bit stressed from when he was sure Hanzo was gonna fall and break his neck. Hanzo doesn’t reply immediately, seemingly finding some deep answers scrutinizing his bow.

“Your extra height poses a problem for my combat style.” he sighs. “My bow is custom built after my height and draw length, which means I won’t be able to shoot with the same accuracy as before. Your arm does not pose much problem luckily, but your damned long limbs made me miscalculate my backflip, I nearly landed on my neck.”

“Yeah uh, I saw… Thanks for being able to save _my_ neck there...” he replies, maybe a bit more crassly than needed. They’re both silent for a minute before Hanzo speaks again.

“Have a go with your gun?” 

“Yeah uh, that’s gonna register on your profile, heh, Athena can’t tell us apart.” Jesse answers sheepishly.

“Athena. Initialize training sequence Weapons: Handgun - BSC1100.” Hanzo commands the AI.

“Initializing switch from Weapons: Archery to Weapons: Handgun... Initializing training sequence Weapons: Handgun - BSC1100 in 3, 2, 1, Go!”

His drawtime hasn’t suffered, that’s a relief. He twirls Peacekeeper around his finger and throws her up in the air, catching her deftly and doing a pose. Hanzo arches a brow at him, seemingly not appreciating the show he’s putting on. He grins, takes aim and shoots, and the recoil slams him back on his ass. The indignation must show on his face, because Hanzo is suddenly laughing, full blown _laughing_. Jesse’s pride _is_ hurt.

“Look who skipped out on arm strength day.” he says weakly, but Hanzo keeps laughing and not before long Jesse is laughing as well. What a totally ridiculous situation they’re in. It’s quite serious that they’re both apparently somewhat useless in combat at the moment, but goddamnit if it isn’t stupidly hilarious as well.

“Thank you, I needed that.” Hanzo says as he dries his eyes. “Arm strength’s got nothing to do with it by the way, it’s your muscle memory you need to brush up on.”

“Yeah, I know. Sheesh, this is really awkward.” he says grimacing. Hanzo holds out a hand and helps him up. Jesse dusts off his pants and gives the archer a grin.

“Well partner, looks like we have quite some training to do before we can be useful to this team again. Well, me more than you it would seem, you’re uhm, quite talented you know, even if body and equipment aren’t optimal together at the moment.”

Hanzo makes a weird noise, quickly turning his head away.

“You’re ridiculous, McCree.” he says silently. “But… Thank you.”

When Jesse’s back in his bed, an hour and a half later, he falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillows.

**Author's Note:**

> Come rave with me about Overwatch and various pairings on tumblr: http://8-bitcyborg.tumblr.com


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